


raging tides

by iridescence (10softbot)



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Reflection, Relationship(s), Reliability, Smoking, implied mental health issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/pseuds/iridescence
Summary: Chanhee is like smoke, dancing his way through the thick haze that is Changmin’s life, lingering on every instance long after he burns out.
Relationships: Choi Chanhee | New/Ji Changmin | Q
Kudos: 26





	raging tides

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very personal fic to me, writing-wise. i've had it in my files for the longest time, and i'm finally putting it out for the world to see. please be kind to it. it is emotionally charged and a little heavy, please heed the tags.
> 
> **do not repost or translate without permission**

At first, everything is like smoke, wisps of silver curling and dancing its way through the thick, hazy air as if excited to escape through the open windows. Even after the fire has long burned out, its smell lingers on the fabric of the chairs and the couch, the curtains and the rug splayed out in the living room. It hangs in the air ready to greet whoever opens the front door, ready to escape the bitter gusts of wind trapped inside the apartment.

Similarly, Chanhee is like smoke, dancing his way through the thick haze that is Changmin’s life, lingering on every instance long after he burns out, hanging around ready to greet Changmin whenever he decides to walk through the front door. But much unlike smoke, instead of escaping through the open windows or out the front door when Changmin opens it, Chanhee lets himself in more and more each day, engraving his mark so deep Changmin’s soul it hurts to even try to rub it off.

Sometimes Chanhee is like the ocean, holding a plenitude of colors in him. Silver at dawn, green at noon, dark blue in the evening, sometimes looking almost red or turning the color of aged coins. The shadows of clouds drag across him and patches of sunlight touch down his skin everywhere. To see so many sides of him, it is probably one of Changmin’s favorite things.

Sometimes he catches himself staring, completely forgetting about his duties. But he doesn’t mind, the boy next to him looking big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel without even knowing.

And just like it, Changmin knows there is nothing wrong with enjoying looking at what’s only on the surface, but when you see what goes on underwater you realize you’ve been missing the whole point of the ocean. And maybe they aren’t all that different; both have salt in their blood, like seawater coursing through the avenues that keep them breathing. When Changmin kisses Chanhee’s wrists, he tastes the ocean. They fall into bed and crash together like waves.

Like the ocean, Chanhee occupies two-thirds of his world and Changmin finds it harder by the day to let him go. Not that he would have to, not when Chanhee’s shoes have a permanent spot by his door, when his cologne lingers on his bedsheets and pillows even after multiple washes, not when Changmin’s skin is permanently marred with black and purple just like his own. His bandmates never ask and he doesn’t find a reason to mention it either, so he just lets it be.

Letting it be at times means getting home to a half-naked Chanhee cooking them food or standing by the living room window having a smoke, but more often than not it is walking into an empty apartment with only the lingering smell of nicotine and the ghost sounds of a lighter to fill up the empty space. Changmin will lie in bed then, sweaty clothes from his gig still on, eyes fixed on the lighting fixture right above his bed. Chanhee shouldn’t take long; he never does.

It is in the quiet of the night that his brain gets the best of him, and Changmin wishes Chanhee would get home sooner before he spirals down the path he works so hard on pushing out of his life. He hears the key turning on the front door just as his hands start to shake and he closes them into fists, fights against the involuntary anger that bubbles up his stomach. He doesn’t want to feel this, and Chanhee doesn’t deserve to see it.

“Why are you being so loud,” Chanhee grumbles as he makes his way into the room, a lit cigarette between his fingers on the same hand he holds a half empty soju bottle. “I can hear your thoughts all the way from the living room.”

Changmin gets on his feet, unwanted scenes flashing before his eyes and fogging up his brain. He holds Chanhee’s wrist up, takes the cigarette from his fingers and smashes it against the wall, leaving a burn mark on the white paint. Chanhee opens his mouth to protest, but Changmin’s hand on his nape is gentle and he closes it instead.

“Quit smoking,” Changmin murmurs, eyes unfocused as he looks down on him. “I’m not one to beg, but please quit smoking.”

Chanhee’s hand runs nervously over his forearm. “I can’t promise you I will,” Chanhee says quietly, their eyes meeting and Changmin can see them waver. “But I’ll try.”

“I’m here to help you,” he tries again, “if only you’ll let me.”

“Will you let me help you too?” Chanhee’s voice is as quiet as it has ever been, and he doesn’t avert his eyes at the question. Instead, it’s just as intense, carrying the weight of a question he must have thought over and over for way too long.

Changmin kisses him instead, hesitant at first but intense when Chanhee lets him in with familiar ease. He can taste nicotine and alcohol on his tongue, can taste his sadness and sorrow and salt from the tears running down Chanhee’s face. He is sure Chanhee can taste salt on his tongue too, fresh tears brimming over his eyes and making their way down his cheeks, an unfamiliar territory.

Changmin doesn’t remember the last time he cried and he finds himself glad that Chanhee is the one to see it.

The slide of Chanhee’s tongue against his is easy, a dance they have been over so many times before. It never ceases to amaze him how intoxicating Chanhee can be, how he can’t help but be drawn into him with every breath he takes. Chanhee is the one to break first, and Changmin frowns.

“Do you wanna play?” he slurs his words, loses his footing for a second and Changmin tries not to laugh.

“I don’t think we should,” Changmin giggles when Chanhee pouts, bends down to peck his lips once more. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“You’re no fun,” Chanhee pushes him back, stumbles his way to bed and falls face first on the mattress, soju bottle resting on top of Changmin’s pillow. Changmin sighs, takes the bottle from his hand, and rests it on the bedside table, completely ignoring Chanhee’s whines.

He struggles to turn the boy around, body heavy from drinking so much, struggles to rid him of his clothes and Chanhee nearly kicks him on the nose when he unbuttons his leather pants. After all this time he thought Chanhee would cooperate, would make it easier for him to get his clothes off. Instead, Chanhee makes things even harder, Changmin knows it when his ass stays glued to the mattress even as he pulls his legs up to try and slide the pants down.

Despite everything, despite how captivating the other is, the deep marks he has left on Changmin, much hasn’t changed and at times Changmin still finds himself nearly popping a vein at how annoying he can be, how much of a brat he manages to pass as and Changmin feels close, too close from ending it all.

But then Chanhee rolls on his side, throws his arm and leg over Changmin once he gets into bed, nuzzles on his neck and Changmin forgets all about it. He can’t stay mad at him for long, not when Chanhee breathes so lightly against his skin, not when his fingers grasp at his arm and holds him tighter, closer, silently begging him not to go. And he isn’t going anywhere, doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to.

Because Chanhee is like the ocean, taking up two-thirds of his world.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/changminize) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/changminize)


End file.
